It Demands to be Felt
by WhoTheHellIsBuckyBarnes
Summary: Kíli was sick of always being second best to Fíli. When he runs off into the forest after an exhausting day of training, Fíli feels he has no choice but to go after him. But neither dwarf expects an orcish raid in the middle of Dwarf territory, and the results may be fatal. Rated T for blood, swearing, and brotherly feels. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Fíli Oakenshield was the nephew of Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror. He was brother to Kíli and son to Dís, although he hardly knew his father. He was a strong, brave warrior and a caring friend to all lucky enough to call him so. He was intelligent, brave, cunning, ambitious, quick, skillful, and humorous. If Fíli Oakenshield was all of this, why couldn't he gather his courage enough to stand up to his uncle and say _ENOUGH_!?

After 82 years of being a prince and 77 years of being an older brother, he should be responsible enough to watch over Kíli and protect him from all of the harm in the world. He should be able to tell the trainers and his judgmental uncle that although 77 years of age, Kíli did not need to be pushed so hard for perfection. He didn't know why all of a sudden his uncle was so insistent they be perfect sword fighters, but he could only accept that something big must be approaching that they must be ready for.

Still, was five long hours of practice with minimal breaks not enough? Dwalin would never push so hard for so long under normal circumstances. However, when Thorin decided to come observe the brothers, he did not accept any reasonable conditions, by Fíli's standards. He himself had practiced for three of those five hours with his brother under Dwalin's supervision, simply sparring with extreme pointers from Thorin. However, when Dwalin announced the class over, Thorin stood and commanded no one leave the arena. He ordered they continue sparring until they could do so no more. Fíli readily took up his stance, eager to impress his uncle. Kíli was already looking a bit worse for the wear, already exhausted from the two hours prior. They sparred for an hour, which tired them out awfully. Kíli look as though he was about to collapse. Thorin announced they would take a break, but when they began again, Fíli was ordered to stay seated as Dwalin sparred Kíli a while.

A he sat on the sidelines, watching his brother intently. He immediately realized _why_ Thorin had Kíli continue. His form was sloppy and his movements were weak. He would need to learn to save his energy in the future. Although they were only sparring, Dwalin made a nasty mark on the side of Kíli's left knee, causing him to grimace and fall down. Fíli was up in a second, but Thorin held him down, rising to his own feet in front of his nephew. Kíli looked up at him through a pained expression, but quickly masked it as he stood up to face his uncle. He leaned heavily on his sword.

"_You must learn to save your energy. Fight until the last breath. You cannot give up so easily_," his uncle spoke quickly in Khuzdul, and Kíli nodded. Maybe the torture was finally over and he could rest.

"You will fight me now."

Kíli gasped at the order as his brother sprang to his feet. He spouted argument after argument about how unfair it was as Kíli was tired and injured and Thorin was fully rested.

"Against a thousand orcish troops one will need more than a few hours of energy, especially as the ranks against them bring fourth new opponents. He will fight me."

That is how Fíli ended up here, on the sidelines in the fifth hour of 'practice' wondering when his mother would arrive to scold Thorin for keeping them past dinner.

Five hours of solid swordplay is not how Kíli would've liked to spend his time. He'd much rather spend five hours on the archery range or at the pub with Bofur drinking away the long practice of the day. Alas, here he was with a sword in his hand instead of a bow or a pint, and a roaring pain in his left knee where it had been struck earlier. He was defending himself against his uncle fairly well, but he could feel his arms aching for him to stop, and he often messed up his footing and nearly plummeting to the ground. As much as he tried, he couldn't take the offensive position against Thorin, and he fully understood the fear every one of his opponents felt as his uncle threw everything he had at him with no sign of slowing down.

Fíli could obviously see his brother struggling, but he couldn't bring himself to say it to his uncle out of fear his punishment would be the same. _Selfish bastard_, he thought to himself, but he knew his still-tired legs wouldn't allow him to succumb to the same fate, as much as it hurt him to see his brother that way.

Everything went wrong when Kíli stepped on a pebble.

No one saw it, of course, it was the smallest of rocks, but when a 77 year old exhausted dwarf puts his full, shaking weight on it, it'll slip, and that it did. Kíli crashed to the ground, weapon clattering away beyond his reach, uncle attacking like he was the wretched dragon Smaug, he did all he could think of doing. He threw his arms up to prevent any further harm.

Thorin saw it coming, but Fíli didn't, which was plainly obvious as his cry for his brother pierced the air. Orcrist came flying at his baby brother at an astonishing speed; it was incredible that Thorin had the ability to stop it right before it hit Kíli's arms. Both brothers let out the breath neither realized they had been holding. Thorin sheathed his sword and began walking back over to where Dwalin had been watching. Kíli sat with his arms still up, hardly relaxing, taking deep breaths in the middle of the arena floor as his brother raced toward him at a record-setting speed. He used his own arms to put Kíli's down and then embrace him as he trembled on the floor, pale and breathless. Oh, why had Fíli not spoken up?

Thorin turned back to look at his nephews. A surge of pride swept through his veins at the sight of the older one being so caring and compassionate to his brother, as well as guilt for being the cause of such an embrace. He knew he shouldn't have pushed Kíli so hard, he just had to see how much he could take. Fíli was a fine warrior; however, his foolish younger sibling needed a lot of lessons in growing up. He hoped they received the message.

The only messages Kíli received were 'Fight harder or die' and 'Fíli doesn't care enough to help you'. Thorin's relentless attacks only meant that he needed to be stronger in order to survive, and his brother didn't call out or defend him once? He obviously thought he deserved it. This reaction from his brother was obviously just an attempt to cover it up. Well if Kíli was anything besides exhausted and weak, it was angry, and he felt he had two pretty big reasons for feeling that way.

_.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._

Dís was on the verge of running down to the arena herself to check on her children and brother after they didn't come home after practice. She was even pulling her boots on when they came smashing through the door. She immediately noticed three things.

1: Thorin was exhausted. He had obviously trained today, like the boys. He couldn't be tired from the journey as it didn't require enough effort to make him break a sweat.

2: Fíli has that face on. The 'my brother is in trouble and it's all my fault' face. He has it on a lot.

3: Kíli, leaning heavily on Fíli's shoulder, was pale, exhausted, and had that face on. The 'my entire family is full of idiots, that's the only reason I'm in trouble' face.

Weighing the situation quickly, she immediately identified the most important matter and swooped in to help Fíli basically carry her youngest son inside the house to the brothers' shared bedroom. Despite his protests, she locked him up in there until dinner was ready so he could rest. Just as she was certain he was going to _stay in bed_ she shut the door behind her until she heard the little 'click'. Satisfied, she returned to the dining room where Fíli set up the dinner table and Thorin sat with him pipe in his usual seat. Dís quickly noticed how their eyes weren't meeting and her son looked as though he was about to explode. She cleared her throat and they both looked up.

"Sit," she commanded. Fíli obliged quickly and she herself joined them.

"What exactly happened today and why is my family so late for dinner?"

When both started talking at once, she held up a hand. The silenced themselves immediately. When Dís got serious, she got _serious_.

"Go, Thorin." She pointed in his direction, then folded her hands expectantly, that little glare of 'if you touch my sons I will hurt you in ways you could never imagine' flickering across her face.

"Well," Thorin ran a hand through him hair as he let out a sigh. "Honestly, Dís, it was just training. It went a bit long. I wanted to see how long they could continue. You've got some strong lads, there."

Fíli slammed his hands down on the table and stood up suddenly.

"That's a lie! You let me stop so early! Why did you force him to keep going! Could you not see the struggle he put forward just to impress you?"

"I saw, and I was not impressed. You have the energy, the heart and soul of a warrior. He needs to learn how to enter the stage of his life where he will need to know how to defend himself and his kingdom. You're ready, Fíli. You're a King!"

"Is he not as well? Is he second in everything? The throne, sparring matches, your affection? Can't you see all he wants is someone to care enough about him to convince him he's worth something?"

"Do not make this entirely my fault. You cannot expect your brother to gain the same respect as you with his foolish pranks and pathetic attempts at matching you? You are going to be a great king, Fíli. Your brother will just have to wait."

"Would the lot of you just **SHUT UP**?"

All traces of argument disappeared completely as attention was drawn to the form standing in the doorframe with a pale but wide awake face sporting an expression of such horror it was almost unbearable. Thorin and Fíli exchanged frantic glances. Had he heard? Their unasked question was answered.

"Foolish? Pathetic? Fine uncle, I always knew you felt something like that, but Fíli?"

"Kíli I never-"

"I heard you. I heard all of it. I get it. I will never come first in anything! Always second to Fíli. 'Wow, Fíli, you're a great swordsman. You nearly cut your brother in half!' 'Fantastic shot with the bow, Fíli! It doesn't matter that you missed by three lengths and your brother hit the center every time, you're clearly superior in every way.' "Hey look! It's Fíli's brother! He must be an incredible fighter! Why don't we all gang up on him at once!? I mean, he's used to being beaten, Fíli wins at everything!' You don't think I hear all of that?"

The older brother was struck speechless suddenly, so hard he physically had to take a step back. Never in all his years of protecting his brother had he realized what he had done to him.

"Now, Kíli," Dís, silent until now, warned.

"No, shut up! Would all of you just go show favoritism towards him somewhere else? I'm sick of this! I'm sick of all of you! Just stay the hell away from me!" Quick as a flash, the younger brother turned on his heels, grabbed his bow, quiver full of arrows, and sword that were waiting at the entryway, and exited the house, running as fast as he possibly could until he reached the forest. There was no sign of Fíli, Thorin, Dís, or anyone searching for him.

"Good." He huffed. "I don't want to be found." The trail he had mostly followed to reach that point disappeared in this area of the woods. Kíli took a deep breath and dove in.

"Need to grow up, huh? I'll show them."

_.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._

Fíli began to follow him, but Thorin's firm hand held him back. A quick glance into the guilty eyes of the King of Erebor was enough to stop him in his tracks.

"Fíli, please, give him a chance to cool off. He's just gotten a lot off his chest and there's nothing we can say to convince him to stay right now. Give him the night. If he hasn't returned by morning we'll go out looking for him. I doubt he will go as far as the forest. He knows better than to trek too far out there at night."

Fíli nodded, fear for his brother practically blinding him as a panicky ringing in his ears deafened him. He was useless like this. He needed to calm down, for Kíli.

Oh Mahal, if anything happened to him…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Anger swelled though his veins as Kíli marched through the forest towards nowhere in particular. He just needed to get away, cool off; he knew he didn't mean anything he had said. His exhausted mind was probably just exaggerating about everything, right? Fíli and Thorin didn't really mean all of that, right?

_No_, a little voice whispered in his head. It sent shivers down his spine. _You know it was the truth_. _All of it_. _You're completely useless_, _a disgrace to the line of Durin_.

"No!" He screamed at the air, at himself, at that satanic voice infiltrating his thoughts. "I'm not useless! I'm not! They don't feel that way! _**GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HEAD**_!"

Silence, for now. Kíli took advantage of the moments of peace and stumbled ahead at a more rapid pace, determined to keep all of the disturbing echoes of his family's words lost in the woods where he wouldn't ever remember them again.

He sighed. He had to go back. As furious as he was, Fíli _must_ be at least a bit worried, even if Thorin wouldn't be. Dís would miss him. She had done nothing wrong, it wasn't right for him to frighten her like this. No matter how much Thorin, Dwalin, Bifur, even _Ori_ preferred his brother, Kíli was still loved. Bofur, Nori, Bombur, Balin, _Fíli_, and Dís were still there.

Right?

Just as Kíli turned to begin the somewhat long and confusing trip home, he laughed at himself for being so paranoid. Of course he was still loved. If he wasn't, why did he still have a home and a bed and a warm place by the fire and a family who could sometimes be really sweet? Fíli was probably pacing back and forth right now. His hands would be in his hair, messing with the beads Kíli gave him for his fortieth birthday as he always did when he was nervous. Thorin would be sitting by the fire with his pipe, reassuring Fíli and insisting Kíli would be home soon, trying to convince both to his nephew and himself. Dís would be locked in her room. Everyone thinks she's crying, or pacing, or sleeping it off, but she's really planning the murder of the ones who hurt her family. Kíli has seen all of this firsthand when his father died. He didn't remember the face, but he remembered the reactions. That was just how they operated at home.

But…where was home? He was in the middle of nowhere. He had no way to find his house again. The stars were blocked by the canopy of trees as it was now in the early hours of the night and the mere light of the stars were not enough to shine through the enormous, color-changing leaves. They would be of no help to him.

Tracks, of course! He must've left tracks! One cannot run off in a fit of rage and manage keep their feet light enough to prevent footprints. A smile, spreading on his face, he turned quickly, staring down at the ground to search for the signs that he had been there. The tracks didn't look quite right for a dwarf, but he brushed it off considering his boots _were_ animal skins that probably contorted the mark…right?

The tracks lead to a large clearing that Kíli was almost certain he had never been to before, unless he was so deep in thought he never noticed. That scenario was entirely possible. He entered the grassy area with caution, staring intently at the ground, set on somehow finding his way back. His heart nearly stopped when he looked up.

An entire camp was set up there, animal skins laying out on the rocks and a fire cracking in the middle. It would have been fairly normal had the weapons sitting out not been made of dark, bloody metal and the foul smell of orcs poisoning the air was petrifying. Kíli knew what it was. It was one thing to stumble upon an orcish camp in the middle of dwarf territory, with bloody weapons, no less, but the thing that really chilled his blood and shook his bones was when he realized what the tracks he had been following belonged to.

And why were there fresh footprints for him to follow directly from himself in the first place?

He quickly grappled for his sword in the sheath in his panicked state of mind and ripped it out, whole body shaking. His hands still ached from the day's intense practice and the sword felt heavy in his hands, but he knew that if the orcs knew where he was, if they were following him, he would have no choice but to use it. His bow would be irrational here. Kíli was sure that he would be able to take down a few orcs, especially with all of their weapons left at their campsite, but all hope escaped through his shaky breaths as one of the 'rocks' he had seen earlier began to rise.

Needless to say, it wasn't a rock.

The giant warg bared his teeth at the unwelcome visitor interrupting his slumber. It rose off of the ground only it's strong legs and let out a long, low growl. It's thick gray fur was stained with dark red blood that looked too fresh for comfort. At the sound of the angry warg, it's friends perked up from where they laid and showed off their teeth, standing to join their companion. Kíli counted six in total. Six wargs must have six riders. If only Fíli was here. As much as he hated to admit it, all of the comments he had been told for years were absolutely correct. Fíli was the superior in almost every sense, he would know what to do.

The first one launched at him before he remembered he was in a potentially dangerous situation. He swung his sword and it slashed its jaw, causing it to stumble back a few paces while the next one pounced. Kíli knew he could not fight all of them, but when he dived to the side and stabbed the beast right through the middle, dragging the blade down instead of pulling it out, he felt as though he stood a chance.

With one as good as dead and another momentarily incapacitated, Kíli was feeling very good about himself until he tried to focus on a third monster. It raked out with its claws and he blocked the attack with his sword, slicing the paw of the beast which was sent limping away. As he was focused on finishing the job, he didn't notice a warg circling behind him until it had already pounced, throwing itself into his back and knocking the breath out of him.

The wargs weren't exactly light, and when Kíli landed on his stomach he heard a sickening crack as a pain erupted suddenly in his chest.

_It must be the ribs_, he could hear Oín in his head.

He struggled to turn himself around, cradling his ribcage as the monster on top of him pulled out its claws and began ripping into his first layer of clothing. The huge talons easily demolished his thin armor he had the sense to put on before rushing into the forest, and he felt them begin to rip into his skin. He squeezed his eyes tightly, determined not to cry out as he weakly reached for his sword and stabbed it through the creature's neck, pushing it off of him and stumbling to his feet.

Kíli's survival instincts kicked in. He knew he wouldn't last long with the intense bleeding like this. He needed binding and cleaning to prevent it from becoming infected. He needed Oín here.

The remaining wargs circles him, getting closer and closer as he held his sword up, wincing at the movement.

He needed Fíli.

_.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._

Kíli's predictions were spot on. Fíli paced nervously back and forth from Thorins chair to the fire and back again. He subconsciously reached up towards the golden braids in his hair and quickly found the silver and bronze beads his brother had made him almost forty-two years ago. He stopped his movement and all but collapsed on his chair in the dining room and laid his head down on the table, never releasing the beads from his grip.

Thorin knew he should say something but he didn't know how to comfort his nephew. He knew he would be blamed for anything that happened to the lad's little brother, understandably, but the King knew that Kíli had been holding this in for years and needed to let it out. If not, the inevitable explosion would have far more casualties.

"Fíli-"

"Do not try to justify your actions, Uncle. If he is injured or worse I shall never forgive you." The heir looked over to his uncle, fury raging through him, but he sighed and resumed fiddling with the beads. "I shall never forgive myself."

This was not right. Thorin knew that if this was anyone's fault it was his, Fíli had no control over it. Oh, why had he been so foolish? The entire time during training Thorin was only trying to make Kíli better, he hadn't realized how much he had been pushing the lad. He made a mental note to _always_ listen to his nephews after this.

"Whether you will listen to me or not, I know he is strong and he will be fine. I have no doubts he will return by morning, if not sooner. If for some reason you still wish to venture after him at noon, alert me and I will be happy to assist you in your search. Until then, get some sleep." The king stood and stormed to his room. He didn't mean to sound like he didn't care; he had actually begun the sentence hoping to console his nephew. Now look at what he'd done.

It seemed as though Thorin broke everything he touched.

Sighing, the dwarf ran his calloused hands through his hair and laid back on his bed, allowing his eyes to close.

"Thorin? Thorin! Wake up!" Two strong hands gripped his shoulders and lifted him up and down repeatedly. Gasping, Thorin sat up quickly, pushing away the hands and opening his eyes. Fíli stood before him, weapons in hand and armor glinting in the sunlight. Sunlight? How long had Thorin been out?

"It's almost noon. There is no sign of Kíli. I'm going after him." Fíli refused to make eye contact with his uncle, who was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "You can join me if you care enough."

Suddenly wide awake, Thorin stood and glared at his nephew. "Have you assembled a search party?"

Fíli nodded sheepishly. "Nori and I have been looking since dawn. We haven't found anything."

"Be off then, we need to find your brother." Thorin attempted to give the lad a comforting smile. Fíli returned it briefly before racing out the door to continue the search.

Thorin grabbed his boots and his armor. He didn't know what to be prepared for, but he had a sick feeling in his stomach that should he find his nephew, it would not be on friendly terms. He feared for the worst as he grabbed his favorite and best sword, Orcrist. Swinging it into a sheath, the dwarf king set out closely behind the prince. He had so many things to do; find Dwalin, get a party together, decide where to search, and on top of it all, he didn't even know if Kíli wanted to come back.

Thorin cursed himself and trudged forward into the village, towards the healers. If someone knew where Kíli was, they would be there.


End file.
